LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf^.^_6^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



OUT OF THE NEST 



OUT OF THE NEST 

a iFligl)t of ©er0e0 

BY / 

MARY McNEIL FENOLLOSA 



Some flew east and some flew west" 

Old Nursery Song 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1899 







45123 

Copyright, 1899, 
By Little, Brown, and Company. 



A II rights reserved. 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 







John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 






CONSECRATION 
9 

TO YOU, FROM WHOSE QUIET NEST MV YOUNG WINGS 
BRAVED THE WIND; 

TO YOU, MY CLOSEST FRIEND AND PUREST 
INSPIRATION, — 

Wu ^^^^f ^fat Mat\)tx, 

THESE EAGER, CALLOW FLEDGLINGS 
ARE MOST LOVINGLY TENDERED. 



CONTENTS 



EAST 

Page 

Morning Fancy 3 

Sunrise in the Hills of Satsuma 4 

Morning on Fujisan 5 

MiYOKO San 6 

Flying Fish 8 

Share with Me your Dreams ....... 9 

YUKI II 

A Driffing Petal 12 

To a Japanese Lady of High Rank 13 

The Samisen 15 

The Lover 18 

Legend of the Lotos 19 

After the Flood 21 

Songs 24 

The Moon over Lake Biwa 26 

The Great Bronze Buddha at Kamakura . . 27 

Moon-Tryst 29 

The Koto Player 30 

Parting 31 

The Exile of Koshi 32 

vii 



Contents 

Page 

Japanese Love Song 34 

Kioto from Maruyama 36 

Early Spring 37 

Cherry-Time 38 

A Friend 39 

Full Moon over Sui.iidagawa 40 

The Nightingale 42 

Old People at a Temple 43 

Rain in Japan 45 

The Path of Prayer 47 

The Karasaki Pine 49 

Midsummer in Tokio 51 

To A Japanese Nightingale 53 

On'Hoyen's Picture of Rice Plants and Sun . 54 

Eastern Cry 57 

Exiled 59 

FujiSAN from Enoshima 62 

Good-bye 6^ 

The Two Homes 64 

WEST 

Lines , ... 69 

Roses 70 

A Snowflake 71 

The Red Maple 72 

Envy 73 

Content 74 

viii 



Contents 

Page 

Dreams and Memory 76 

Behind Bars 77 

The Magnolia 78 

Isaac 80 

Lines for the Door of a Young Girl's Study 81 

Lines for the Door of a Philosopher's Den . 82 

Birth of the Flowers 83 

The Willow 84 

Night in the Rockies 86 

The Solitary Grave 88 

An Old Photograph 89 

A Reverie 91 

Miasma 93 

Blind . 94 

Twilight in a Summer Garden 95 

Snow on Country Graves 96 

Extremity 97 

The Juggler 99 

After the Storm 100 

The Narcissus loi 

Grief's Deputy 102 

Snow Petals 103 

Drifting 104 

Rebirth . 105 

Voices 106 

Autumn 109 

Three Women no 



IX 



EAST 



Out of the Nest 



MORNING FANCY 

/^ LET me die a singing ! 

O let me drown in light ! 
Another day is winging 

Out from the nest of night. 
The morning-glory's velvet eye 

Brims with a jewelled bead. 
To-day my soul 's a dragon-fly, 

The world a swaying reed. 



Out of the Nest 



SUNRISE IN THE HILLS OF SATSUMA 

npHE day unfolds like a lotos-bloom, 

Pink at the tip and gold at the core, 
Rising up swiftly through waters of gloom 
That lave night's shore. 

Down bamboo stalks the sunbeams slide, 

Darting like glittering elves at play, 
To the thin arched grass where crickets hide 
And sing all day. 

The old crows caw from the camphor boughs, 

They have builded there for a thousand years. 
Their nestlings stir in a huddled drowse 
To pipe shrill fears. 

A white fox creeps to his home in the hill, 

A small gray ape peers up at the sun ; 
Crickets and sunbeams are quarrelling still ; 
Day has begun. 
4 



Morning on Fujisan 



MORNING ON FUJISAN 

npHROUGH powdered mist of dawn-lit pearl and 
rose 
There lifts one lotos-peak of cleaving white, 
The swan-like rhapsody of dying night, 

Which, softly soaring through the ether, blows 

To hang there breathless. Far beneath it flows 
In barren majesty of level sight 
Long polished waves of jade and malachite, 

Crested with fragments of its shattered snows. 



Half-veiled in mist of opalescent dreams 
The soft remembered colors seem to burn, 

Of flowers and shells, of clouds and moonlit streams, 
Within its heart, as in a sapphire urn ; 

While great globed clouds of incense, one by one, 

Melt in the goblet of the yellow sun. 



Out of the Nest 



MIYOKO SAN 

CNARE me the soul of a dragon-fly, 

The jewelled heart of a dew-tipped spray, 
A star's quick eye, 
Or the scarlet cry 
Of a lonely wing on a dawn-lit bay. 

Then, add the gleam of a golden fan, 
And I will paint you Miyoko San. 



Find me the thought of a rose, at sight 
Of her own pale face in a fawning stream, 
The pohshed night 
Of a crow's slow flight, 
And the long sweet grace of a willow's dream. 
Then, add the droop of a golden fan, 
And I will paint you Miyoko San. 
6 



Miyoko San 

Lure me a lay from a sunbeam's throat, 
The chant of bees in a perfumed lair, 
Or a single note 
Gone mad to float 
To its own sweet death in the upper air. 
Then, add the click of a golden fan. 
And I have painted Miyoko San. 



Out of the Nest 



FLYING FISH 

/^UT where the sky and the sky blue sea 
^'^ Merge in a mist of sheen, 
There started a vision of silver things, 
A leap and a quiver, a flash of wings 
The sky and the sea between. 

Is it of birds from the blue above, 
Or fish from the depths that be ? 
Or is it the ghosts 
In silver hosts 
Of birds that were drowned at sea ? 



Share with Me your Dreams 



SHARE WITH ME YOUR DREAMS 

r^ IVE then to others smiles and tears, 
Your presence, and your thought ; 

The look that calms, the noble fears, 
The peace that suffering brought. 

I envy not what they have known, 
Though dear it seems. 

Oh, share with me, with me alone 
Your dreams, your dreams. 

The pink that tips a lotos flower 

To any may be fair. 
But what the deep and awful power 

That sent it tingling there ? 
The ichor veins 'of mountains dim, 

Eternal streams, 
Yield now the echoes of their hymn, 
Your dreams, your dreams. 
9 



Out of the Nest 

What man may do, or spirit will, 

Though Gods have leaned to see. 
Does not the inner vision fill 

With such fine ecstasy 
As doth the lotos thing of sleep, 

Which, pallid, gleams 
Above the tears that poets weep ; 
Your dreams, your dreams. 



lO 



Yuki 



YUKI 

TT fHEN cherry flowers begin to blow 

* ^ With Yuki's face beneath them, 
The richest petals lose their glow, 
And small buds haste to sheath them. 

When blue wistaria hangs its head 

And Yuki leans above it, 
The swallow flits discomforted, 

With none to see or love it. 

When lotos blossoms open wide 
And beckon men to dreaming. 

My Yuki smiles, — and aU their pride 
Is but a perfumed seeming. 

When snow is white on moat and tree 
And crusts each bamboo feather, 

My Yuki lifts her eyes to me. — 
'T is all I know of weather. 
II 



Out of the Nest 



A DRIFTING PETAL 

TF I, athirst by a stream, should kneel 
With never a blossom or bud in sight, 
Till down on the theme of its Hquid night 
The moon-white tip of a sudden keel, 

A fairy boat, 
Should dawn and float 
To my hand, as only the Gods deserve, 
The cloud-like curve, 
The loosened sheaf, 
The ineffable pink of a lotos leaf; — 
I should know, I should feel, that far away 
On the dimpled rim of a brighter day 
A thought had blossomed, and shaken free 
One sheath of its innermost soul for me. 



12 



To a Japanese Lady of High Rank 



TO A JAPANESE LADY OF HIGH RANK 

"PRAGILE waxen dream of woman, 

Cold, inscrutable, unhuman ; 
Ivory skin too dense for veining, 
Hair like deepest shade remaining, 
Tiny lips gold-tipped with silence, 
Sealed to feminine beguilance ; 

I can dream that men may love thee. 
But will all their loving move thee ? 
Can a heart sincere or tender 
Beat beneath that garment's splendor? 
Rich with gold the gorgeous sheathing ; 
Is it warm above thy breathing ? 

Art thou made of dew, and shimmer 
Of the moon where snow crests glimmer ? 
13 



Out of the Nest 

Wrought of pure and scentless flowers 
Stilled in hush of starlit hours ? 
More than these, the smile mysterious 
'Neath thy level lids imperious. 



14 



The Samisen 



THE SAMISEN 

pENSIVE she marks them as they go, 

Her mother, sisters, — all 
With happy heart and voice to join 

The village festival. 
Meek were the looks O Kiku wore 

At time of starting, when 
She plead to stay, that she might play 
Her little samisen, 

Plink ! Plunk ! 
Her little samisen. 

Alone within the quiet home. 

Her samisen on knees. 
She bends a tiny Hstening ear 

To tune its vibrant keys. 
She sings a lay of chivalry. 

Of spring, of flowers, and then 
15 



Out of the Nest 

A song of love she breathes above 
Her little samisen, 
Plink! Plunk! 
Her little samisen. 

The bamboo fence is thick and tall, 

The gates are all of stone. 
Besides, how could young Tora know 

That she sang there alone ? 
Yet wondrous are the ways of maids, 

And stranger those of men. 
In little space, a boyish face 
Bends o'er her samisen, 

Plink ! Plunk ! 
Her little samisen. 

And life holds love in harmony 
Until the scrape and clack 

Of sandals at the outer door 
Proclaim the revellers back. 

And, coming in the room, they see, 
As modest as a wren, 
i6 



The Samisen 

O Kiku fair, a playing there 
Her lonely samisen, 

Plink ! Plunk ! 
Her little samisen. 



17 



Out of the Nest 



THE LOVER 

{Frofu the Japanese) 

T OUDLY on Kaminabi's crest 

The thunders throb their sheeted ram 
And hurl upon the scowHng plain 
The great storm-dragons of the West. 



The wild winds lash the air to foam. 

My mother weeps ; but I, apart, 

Cry wildly to my own wild heart 
" Has he reached home ? has he reached home i* ' 



i8 



Legend of the Lotos 



LEGEND OF THE LOTOS 

pOR years, long years ago, on lake and river 

The Lotos bloomed, with petals curl on curl 
Close folded ; and to full perfection never 
Had opened wide those lattices of pearl. 

Like fair white maids with finger-tips a-meeting, 
Like wordless song unwed to music's art, 

They pierced the stream each morn in pallid 
greeting ; 
Then shrank in silence, for they had no heart. 

Above them, nightly, stars would lean, and hover 
With gifts of whisper-rays, and kisses long ; 

But all in vain, till one transcendent lover 

Slid down from heaven among the startled throng. 
19 



Out of the Nest 

At morn the flowers still stood like pale nuns 
hushing ; 

But one among them throbbed her sweetness far. 
Like arms out-spread the full veined petals flushing, 

For in her trembling heart there lay a star. 

And since that hour the sky rains lovers ever. 

All day they rock within that soft embrace. 
At night the petals close ; the stars up-quiver, 

And, sighing, seek their old accustomed place. 



20 



After the Flood 



AFTER THE FLOOD 

'T^HREE days ago I knelt in prayer 

Before our little garden shrine 
To thank, with gifts, the Spirit there, 

That life and happiness were mine. 
A-near me lay the river bed 

Where thin streams parted in the sun. 
Below, my jewelled rice-fields spread ; 

I blessed them softly, one by one. 

Then came the sound of rushing wind. 

The drowsy earth was shaken. Spray 
Of sand and leaves, as fields were thinned, 

Drove on before the floods of gray. 
Like loosened death its awful reel. 

It gnawed the banks with jagged teeth ; 
And cut, with scythes of liquid steel, 

The rows of helpless grain beneath. 

21 



Out of the Nest 

Across the flayed earth's shrunken frame 

The fields are traced in swollen veins ; 
And, where the long rice tossed its flame, 

A mocking stubble now remains. 
Far ofl", beyond three fields or more, 

Where drift-wood banks a stricken pine, 
There Hes a roof, a broken door, 

The drowned gods of my father's shrine. 

From out the mouldy hut I hear 

A mother hush her children's cries. 
My aged parents huddle near 

And peer about with hungry eyes. 
My hearth is now a sunken hole, 

No smoke goes singing past the eaves. 
And in the rice-pan's hollow-bowl 

Her silver nest the spider weaves. 

The blue flies quicken in the sun, 
A toad squats grinning on the mat. 

And through the slimy shallows run 
The long lines of the water rat. 

22 



After the Flood 

Three days ago I knelt in prayer. 

The Gods stood smiling from their place ; 
Where now, upon the vacant air, 

Death slowly lifts his awful face. 



23 



Out of the Nest 



SONGS 



" CING me a song of men ! " he cried, 
^ " Who ruled in the days of old ; 
With granite aim, and thoughts of flame 
Rough cast in a giant mould ; 
Great caves of strength where the storms abide, 
High planes of a calm divine ! 
Sing me a song of men ! " he cried. — 
I showed him a rock and pine. 

" Sing me a song of the human heart ; 
A glint in the trackless wild, 
A thing unread by the snowy head 
Alike by the heedless child ; 
A soundless deep if the shadows start, 
A jeer in the sunlit gleam ! 
Sing me a song of the human heart ! " — 
I showed him a mountain stream. 
24 



Songs 

" Sing me a song of the human soul, 
Bound fast to a rolling year, 
The living breath of a baffled death, 
The wick of a rimless sphere ; 
Great memories writ on a fading scroll, 
Pale pangs of a nameless need ! 
Sing me a song of the human soul ! " — 
I gave him a lotos seed. 



25 



Out of the Nest 



THE MOON OVER LAKE BIWA 

"PLOAT up, O moon, from the hills and trees, 

Float out on the wide sky-sea ; 
For never an island of cloud is near, 
And the little star fishes lie deep and clear 
As they quiver in wait for thee. 

Sail on and on in the slow, sweet breeze, 

Stem the current of Milky Way ; 
While far, far down through the waves of night 
The moonlit earth, like a shell of white, 

Lies dropped by the passing day. 



26 



The Great Bronze Buddha at Kamakura 



THE GREAT BRONZE BUDDHA AT 
KAMAKURA 

CILENT I sit amid the silent hills ; 

Silent before me gleams the fiat white s^a. 
Deep in the wood a hidden locust shrills 
Drowsily singing to himself and me. 

Ever the seasons bring the pilgrim bands 
Lisping " Of what dreams Buddha all the day ? '' 
Creeping hke insects on my folded hands, 
Chirping shrill prayers, then winging on their way. 

What am I dreaming ? Ah, of glories gone. 
Once, from my footstool spreading to the sea, 
Temples, and city roofs, and gardens shone, 
Built by a Shogun, ruled by him and me. 
27 



Out of the Nest 

Jealous the Sea-God ! In one mighty wave 
Swelled his proud heart ; the waters rose apace, 
Rose and swept inward ; at my forehead drave ; 
Crested the hill-tops for a moment's space. 

Only a moment ! From the insulted land 
Swift it receded. Ah, the wreck it bore ! 
O the fair city built upon the sand ! 
O the fair city, seen no more, no more ! 

Still in the Sea-God's heart that memory thrills. 
Deep in his breast he hides the jewel won. — 
Silent I sit amid the silent hills, 
Spouse to the Sphinx, and brother to the Sun. 



28 



Moon-Tryst 

MOON TRYST 

{From the yapanese) 

n^HE distant hills in blue dismay 

Shudder beneath the darkening skies. 
The hour is near ; O why delay ? 
Lonely I wait with streaming eyes. 
But should some neighbor on her way 
Demand the reason of my sighs, 
What could I say ? what could I say ? 

I '11 tell her, " All alone I wait," 
(Not daring, love, thy name to speak), 
" And watch, beyond the hills' estate, 
And past that one defiant peak, 
The moon her sweetness vindicate. 
— 'T is but the dew upon my cheek. 
I sigh, — because — the moon is late." 

29 



Out of the Nest 



THE KOTO-PLAYER 

A WHILE she waits with rapt and listening eyes, 
Her light hand poised above the slumbering 
strings ; 
Then, as a bird may dip her soaring wings, 
Leans suddenly, and, trailing slantingwise 
One prophet finger, note on note she tries, 
As though she felt her way to beckoning things, 
And touched some silver chord whose white pain 

brings 
Her spirit safe through snares of harmonies. 

Now swift and subde speeds the theme she hears, 
Through discord keen, and surgent monotone 
That beats, as temple bells from distant spheres. 
When lo, — the cadence shivers, and is gone. 
O wondrous hush ! — Then three slow notes, like 

tears. 
Roll down the cheek of silence, one by one. 
30 



Parting 



PARTING 

{From the Japanese) 

nPHAT night we met, to meet no more, 

The very moonbeams listened. 
Was it the dew upon her sleeve ? 
Or tears, — or tears that glistened ? 



31 



Out of the Nest 



THE EXILE OF KOSHI 

{From the Japanese) 

'T^EN weary years, with all their days, 

Have stoned my heart since she was near ; 
And I have wandered many ways 
To find, at last, a shelter here. 

A little hut, straw-thatched and poor ; 

But on the ridge are lilies three, 
And green against my open door 

A drooping willow nods at me. 

Within a tiny garden space 

I tell the years on passing flowers ; 

Like stars each little jewel face 

To gem with light my sunless hours. 
32 



The Exile of Koshi 

The pretty prattle of the pinks, 
The moming-glory*s joyous vine 

With blue eyes at the lattice chinks, 
The blessing of my brooding pine ; — 

These are my wife, my home, my all. 

They twine with life my weakened will. 
The small rose thrills me, and the tall 

White lotos blossom soothes me still. 

Perhaps I shall be growing old ; — 
My short staff lengthens in the sun. 

But, in a garden safe from cold. 

The memory of one face blooms on. 



33 



Out of the Nest 



JAPANESE LOVE SONG 

{Suggested by an old native ballad^ 

r\ LOVE, return, 

^~^ The house is dark and still. 

The moon birds yearn 
Upon the distant hill. 

A mate has flown ; 

One sings alone. 
Return, — return. 

O love, return, 
The scattered flowers lie mute. 

The cold stars spurn 
My stringed and quivering lute. 
The moon laughs low 
To see my woe. 
Return, — return. 
34 



Japanese Love Song 

O love, return, 
I did but jest, to see 

Thy soft cheek burn, 
Thy dark eyes flash on me. 

'T was love alone ; 

Let love atone. 
Return, — return. 



35 



Out of the Nest 



KIOTO FROM MARUYAMA 

T FROM a mountain, look to hills around. 
' A lake of misty azure brims the space. 
While down, like pebbles in a shallow place, 
The huddled house roofs crust the level ground. 



36 



Early Spring 



EARLY SPRING 

{Frotn the Japanese) 

npHE Spring, a bride in white, draws near 

In veil of misty snow. 
So faint, so far, so fair is she 
We cannot voice our ecstasy. 
But there is one to know ; 
The Nightingale,— whose frozen tears 
Grow liquid music, as he hears 
The step we cannot hear. 



37 



Out of the Nest 



CHERRY-TIME 

A WHISPER in the grasses, 
"^ A twittering at the eaves, 
An ecstasy that passes 

From sleep to dancing leaves ! 

A glow upon the cherry, 

A rush of childish feet ! 
The world is making merry. 

Dear Lord, Thy world is sweet ! 



38 



A Friend 



A FRIEND 

{After the Japanese') 

nPHE drooping plum-tree meekly bears 

The snows that mock her coming bloom. 
But, ah, her friend, the nightingale, 

Leaps to her bough, and sings perfume. 



39 



Out of the Nest 



FULL MOON OVER SUMIDAGAWA 



A^ 



S waters haste beneath me, 

In small quick waves beneath me, 
The dark bridge lifts its sluggish arch more stem 
against the gray. 
And boats come mincing quaintly, 
While the boatmen murmur faintly 
Long under-rhymes of river runes, self-taught, as 
willows sway. 

For tender night is near me, 
The soft blue night is near me ; 
And heated day escapes from earth, as breath from 
off a glass. 
And famished stars come quickly. 
Kneeling by the water thickly 
With tiny hands a-scoop for drink among the river 
grass. 

40 



Full Moon over Sumidagawa 

Now pale light yawns before me, 
A Presence dawns before me ; 
The distant temple roofs are dumb before that 
glowing cry. 
Long steps of light are builded 
To an unseen altar, gilded 
As priestess Night lays on her shrine the mirror of 
the sky. 



41 



Out of the Nest 







THE NIGHTINGALE 

NE summer night, 'mid tall bamboo and pine, 
In pathless mood I strayed, the hours be- 
guiling. 

Down through an open space 
Fringed with dark leafy lace 
Shone the moon's yellow face, 
Vapid and smiling. 



And, suddenly, there came a note divine. 

A tlirob of ecstasy, a sound entrancing, 
Such as the gods invoke. 
Trembled and rose and broke.— 
Was it the moon that spoke. 
Through the leaves glancing? 



42 



Old People at a Temple 



OLD PEOPLE AT A TEMPLE 

TJ'OR thy blessing, Lord, we pray, 

Namu Amida Butsu ! 
We, thy children, spent and gray 
With the grief of things long passed. 
Grief may go, but wrinkles last. 
And the lightened back stoops on 
Like a bent pine in the sun. 
Children we, but spent and gray, 
Namu Arnida Butsu ! 

For thy comfort, Lord, we pray, 

Namu Amida Butsu ! 
In the rice-fields, day by day, 
Now the strong ones comb the grain, 
Once we laughed there in the rain. 
Stooping low in sun and cold 
For our helpless young and old ; 
In the rice-fields day by day, 

Namu Amida Butsu ! 
43 



Out of the Nest 

For thy mercy, Lord, we pray, 

Namu Amida Butsu ! 
Let the old roots waste away, 
That the green may pierce the light ! 
Life and thought, in withered plight, 
Choke the morning. Far beneath 
Stirs the young blade in its sheath, 
Let the old roots pass away ! 

Namu Amida Butsu ! 



44 



Rain in Japan 



RAIN IN JAPAN 

nPHE rain falls helpless, iterant, supine, 

As though forever thus the heavens must fare. 
In swift translucent parallels more fine 
Than harp-stringsj or a weeping naiad's hair. 



Grasses knee-deep in muddy lakelets stir ; 

The old pines scowl; — but where the bamboos 

stand 
Young masts spring straight as springs the Northern 

fir 
With clotted plumage sagging to the land. 

From off the scalloped roof incessant rills 
Slip gurgling ; or in corner gutters clink, 
Like spurious coin an aged gambler spills 
From fingers palsied by excess of drink. 
45 



Out of the Nest 

Somewhere amid this universe of rain 
One grasshopper has found a sheltered spot, 
And through the muffled air is chirping plain 
A shrill and sweet contentment with his lot. 

The voice is his ; the recollections mine ! 
Oh, far-off days ! when rain from other skies 
Brimmed great magnolias up with scented wine, 
And blurred the nursery pane to childish eyes ! 



46 



The Path of Prayer 



THE PATH OF PRAYER 

A MONG the gnarled pines of old Japan 

That shade a hill where patient crickets sing, 
I chanced upon a hidden path that ran 
Upward, beneatli a mystic covering. 

A hundred gates the sacred pathway keep, 

Mere stems of red, with one straight beam across ; 

In rigid angles mounting up the steep, 

Their scarlet hue bepatched with ancient moss. 

And, springing from the mold on every side, 
Like ghosts of grass that march in pilgrim band, 

Grew fluttering papers, written all, and tied 
As banners pendent from a mimic wand. 

I wondered long ; when, from the drowsy wood, 
A whisper reached me, " 'Tis the Path of Prayer, 

Where, nightly, Kwannon walks in pitying mood, 
To read the sad petitions planted there." 
47 



Out of the Nest 

Ah, simple faith ! The sun was in the west ; 

And darkness smote with flails his quivering light. 
Beside the path I knelt ; and, with the rest, 

My alien prayer was planted in the night. 



48 



The Karasaki Pine 



THE KARASAKI PINE 

T COME a-begging for a pine, 
And tap with song my silver bell. 

Far off, where Biwa's waters shine, 
There is a pine-tree : — listen well. 

There is a pine, a fount of age, 

Root-cramped the sand and sea between ; 
Of mighty limbs, that curve and rage 

In eddying knots, and gusts of green. 

Its ancient trunk is lichen writ 

With autographs of centuries ; 
The years, like sparrows, perch on it. 

And twitter plaintive memories. 

In days now melted into song 

Here noisy pleasure-boats were stayed ; 
And lords and dames, a jewelled throng, 

Trailed silken sleeves within its shade. 

4 49 



Out of the Nest 

And now the tree must go. In dearth 
The starved roots cram their narrow space. 

O give it alms of vital earth, 
And keep the old king in his place ! 



50 



Midsummer in Tokio 



MIDSUMMER IN TOKIO 

A COPPER sky, gi-ay-veiled in heated mist ! 

Blue roofs, white-ribbed, and clumps of sullen 
trees 
Set close for shade, and dark with purple gloom ! 
The long straight moats gleam dully, set between 
Stone-patient walls, whose mossy crests are twined 
With forms of crouching dragons, pines that writhe 
Red-scaled and rough, with fins of living green. 
A crow beats heavily through the diluted air, 
Aimless with years, and vaguely bound to tip 
The ancient castle-gate, black-peaked and tall, 
Lone sentry at the portal of the past. 
Silence has slept, but from the infrequent grass 
Comes prickling mist of myriad tiny sounds ; 
For there the cicadae, those little men, 
Sit twirling, summer through, shrill reels of song. 
Off in the busy town the streets lie bare ; 
51 



Out of the Nest 

But under booths of straw old dames sell fruit 
And many a cooling drink. There children play 
More quiet for the heat, or, drooped like flowers, 
Sleep in the doors with little faces flushed. 
In long straight rows the nerveless willows stand 
Weeping green rain that never falls to earth ; 
While, piercing down the vista, comes a sound, 
The keen, recurrent, many-fluted cry 
Of Amma San, a human cicada. 
CVer street, and moat, and granite-castled isle 
The dusty glare of muffled light has crept. 
And choked the world with languor, till the soul 
Stirs panting, like the air's white flames that rise 
Made visible with tremor. Then is blown, 
Cooling the air with shaded petal-waves. 
The great sound-blossom of a temple bell. 



52 



To a Japanese Nightingale 



TO A JAPANESE NIGHTINGALE 

F\ARK on the face of a low, full moon 

Swayeth the tall bamboo. 
No flute nor quiver of song is heard, 
Though sheer on the tip a small brown bird 
Sways to an inward tune. 

O small brown bird, like a dusky star, 

Lone on the tall bamboo, 
Thou germ of the soul of a summer night, 
Thou quickening core of a lost delight, 
Of ecstasy born afar, 

Soar out thy bliss to the tingling air, 

Sing from the tall bamboo. 
Loosen the long, clear, syrup note 
That shimmers and throbs in thy delicate throat ; 
Mellow my soul's despair ! 

53 



Out of the Nest 



ON HOYEN'S PICTURE OF RICE-PLANTS 

AND SUN. 

A SCARLET sun in lonely wandering 
'^ Once crossed the line where level waters cut 
A boundless sphere of gray. Amazed he shrank, 
For in his careless path a God had lain, 
Who blinking waked, and angry-hued arose 
Rough scaled in waves, the spirit of the sea. 
Then, shattering blades of green on shields of blue, 
With stifled hiss, and belching spheres of steam. 
The two gods raged ; till all the upper air, 
Once crystal lymph, and yet unflecked by stars, 
Grew wild with cloud, and thick with husky gloom, 
A second chaos of the elements. 
When lo, upon the eastern rim of time. 
Engendered rainbow-like and substanceless, 
54 



Hoyen's Picture of Rice-Plants and Sun 

Inrooted with the surge and branched in mist, 

The vision of a Growing Thing to Be ! 

So tall it stood, its clustered fruits were hung 

An arch of gold o'er gray infinity. 

So wide, its filmy quivering leaves had tapped 

The pales of frightened north and south in one. 

So green, the emeralds cut from polar waves, 

So soft, the dreaming dawns of virgin skies, 

Grew thin and harsh. A living thing it stood 

The rice-plant, Ine, ripe with sun and tide 

In fertile union, heavenly prophecy 

Of coming man, and man's predestined food. 

Now, where its fading roots had chafed the sea, 

Leviathans arose of curdled hills. 

Whose timid valleys woke with wondering eyes 

To view themselves reflected in the lakes, 

Their pools of refluent sky. So Ine passed, 

A vision paling silver leaf by leaf 

As melts the moonlight in the cup of dawn ; 

Till golden grains alone still blessed the air, 

For every grain had blossomed to a star. 



55 



Out of the Nest 

The big red sun still mounting day by day, 
A god of men, a nation's orifiamme, 
And heralding his path with gonfalons 
That drive across the sea the gates of dawn, 
Greets, first and dearest of his earth-born heirs, 
Japan, whose teeming fields in prophecy 
Were writ against the sky in Ine's dream. 



56 



Eastern Cry 



EASTERN CRY 

11 /"HAT care I that the world goes wrong? 

(The lotos blooms apace) 
That England 's weak, or Russia strong, — 
That China sing her vast death-song? 
Among the lotos herons trace 
Their silhouettes of snowy grace. 
Ah, lovely land! 

Why tremble I at China's call? 

(The harvest moon is here) 
For though that mighty Empire fall 
'T is but the common fate of all. 

Across the moon, above the mere, 
The wild-geese pass in angles clear. 
Ah, pensive land! 
57 



Out of the Nest 

Why burn I for my country's sword ? 

(Red maples by the lake) 
Why long to leap, and give the word, 
And force our blindness on the Lord ? 
Be7ieath the maples crickets wake 
And chip the silence ^ flake on flake, 
Ahj mystic land! 



58 



Exiled 



EXILED 

''T^WAS midnight, as our stately ship 
Swept out from Yokohama's bay, 
And on the shore the quivering Hghts 

Like fallen constellations lay. 
Farewell, my lotos-land ! Good night ! 

Forever and a day ! 

A lover from his best beloved 

At parting finds the flower of pain 

In gazing on that loveliness 
Which never shall be his again. 

And so I thought to scan thy face, 
But tears have made it vain. 

Upon a deck faint-washed with dawn 

I hurried, leaning far to see 
If through the cloying cloud and mist 

One last faint vision there might be, 
59 



Out of the Nest 

One fading glimpse of that dear land 
Forever lost to me. 

Across the wide gray waste of waves, 
Each like a grave of buried hope, 

A dull horizon ringed the sky 
In vacant plenitude of scope. 

As though despair had cast thereon 
My future's horoscope. 

And, where my home of flowers had been, 
The sea-mists spread a fatuous shore ; 

And giant clouds were huddled there 
In postures never seen before, 

Gray phantoms of a vanished dream. 
Gray ghosts of nevermore. 

Gray ghosts of nevermore, they reared 
At Eden's gate, with menace shod ; 

And gloated evilly to see 

Another driven human clod, — 

When sudden, sheer above them all. 
There gleamed a smile from God. 
60 



Exiled 

A crown it seemed, self-poised in mist, 
A crystal fount of mercy fair, 

A god-like lotos drooping low 

Great petals fringed with silent prayer, 

A frail mirage of Paradise 
Set in the quickening air. 

Then like a moon that pearl dissolved 
In argent space, as mile on mile 

The still air wove a jealous screen, 
Whereon, my senses to beguile, 

Love imaged yet the sacrament 
Of Fujiyama's smile. 



6i 



Out of the Nest 



FUJISAN FROM ENOSHIMA 

r\ THOU divine, remote, ineffable ! 

^^ Thou cone of visions based on level sea, 

Thou ache of joy in pale eternity, 

Thou gleaming pearl in night's encrusted shell, 

Thou frozen ghost, thou crystal citadel, 

Heart-hushed I gaze, until there seems to be 

Nothing in heaven or earth, but thee and me ; 

I the faint echo, thou the crystal bell ! 

Time rolls beneath me, as the waves' long foam, 
And thoughts, as drifting weeds, float vaguely by. 

Leaving my ransomed soul to fill the dome 

Which curves, by day, thy cloud-fringed canopy. 

Measured by gods, I draw my human height ; — 

Then hide me, weeping. I have faced the light ! 

62 



Good-Bye 



GOOD-BYE 

npHE ship cuts clean through the sobbing night, 

And her trail is a line of fire. 
Lift high thy prow, in sailing now, 
Thou ship of my soul's desire ! 

But what care I that thy hold is rich 

With camphor, silk and tea ? 
And what care I that thy mast be high ? 

My lover is gone from me ! 

The sakiira trees made a glow on the hill, 

The lotos clapped her leaves ; 
And the rice-field's sheen, with its rime of green, 

Had whispered of harvest sheaves. 

But not for me shall the harvest be ! 

My summer is lost for aye. 
And what is left but a world bereft ? 

Good-bye ! Good-bye ! Good-bye ! 

63 



Out of the Nest 



THE TWO HOMES 

QAFE at home, — a shrine of love, 
^ Deep in scented Eastern grove, 
Live I, love I, tend and sew 
Much as Western women do. 
Yet the Hfe is richer far, 
Owning thus a double star ; 
One must joy in alien ways, 
Learn, adapt, and paraphrase, 
Making light the yoke devised 
By a world called civilized. 

But because of loves as kind, 
In my garden you will find 
Flowers that knew but Western skies, 
Pansies sweet with homesick eyes, 
Jasmine looped on purple stems 
Crowned with golden diadems, 
64 



The Two Homes 

Great magnolias holding up 
Each a carven ivory cup, 
Moon-flowers punctually true 
As those the Southern breezes woo. 

In that home I call my other 

Lives my comrade, friend, and mother ; 

She to whom the empty miles 

Seem but deeper mother-smiles. 

She to whom the alien hours 

Seem a calendar of flowers. 

In her garden thrive and grow 

Blooms that Eastern races know, 

Tender vagrants, exiles sweet, 

Nodes where arcs of longing meet. 

When my sleeping daisies wake 
I must greet them for her sake : 
When her cherry-blossoms shine 
I can feel her heart in mine. 
Swift from pink or plum or rose 
Mutual benediction goes, 

65 



Out of the Nest 

Till the very birds must guess 
All my garden's preciousness. — 
Surely life is sweet to lend, 
Home and lover, flower and friend ! 



66 



WEST 



LINES 

WRITTEN, WHEN A CHILD, UPON A MIRROR GIVEN 
TO MY MOTHER 

A S in the classic lake Narcissus strove 

His own beloved countenance to see, 
You, smiling in this little gift of love, 
Behold the sweetest face on earth to me. 



69 



Out of the Nest 



ROSES 

Al rHAT shall I send to my sweet to-night? 

Roses of yellow, or pink, or white ? 
Gold for her smile, and her sunny hair ? 
Pink for the flush that her cheeks will wear? 
White for her soul, and the secrets there ? 

Which shall she lay on her breast of snow ? 

Is it a prophecy ? Weal or woe ? 
Yellow for gold, and the worlds decree ! 
Pink for a love and its ecstasy ! — 
White for the robe of a saint to be ! 

Strange, how I shrink from the frail design ! 

'T is but a fancy, a whim of mine. 
Fate does not come at a lover's call, 
To lurk in the rose of a girl's first ball. — 
I think I '11 take violets, after all. 
70 



A Snowflake 



A SNOWFLAKE 

/^NE bitter flake of the early snow 

^""^ Sped down from its cloudy home. 

It fluttered and twirled in a voiceless jeer 

For joy of a storm to come. 

It poised, and swept, as the winds grew bleak, 

To a city bleak and drear. 

But it fell, — it fell on a poet's cheek, 

And rolled away, a tear. 



71 



Out of the Nest 



THE RED MAPLE 

T HEARD a voice which calling, ever calling, 

Tugged at my wintry soul with deepening thrall, 
Claimed and perplexed me, till, one pensive hour, 
In sudden joy I knew the spring's low call. 

Out on the hill the trees no green were spinning. 
The grass was mute, no bird was there to sing. 
But ah, the rapture, as I saw the maple 
Toss to the air her crimson keys of spring ! 



72 



Envy 



ENVY 

n^HEY laid her in that narrow, sunken bed, 

Fair daughter — sister — bride, 
And I — unloving and unwed, 
I stood beside. 

The piteous cries of those assembled near 

But mocked her peace. 
I thought, " Alas ! were I but lying there, 
All tears would cease." 

I almost hated her, that she should lie 

So mute and still, 
Filling a grave she could not crave, that I 
So longed to fill. 

They left her there, beneath the flowers' perfume, 

Hallowed forever more. 
I crept back to my solitary room. 
And locked the door. 
73 



Out of the Nest 



CONTENT 

COMETIMES, when I ray attic chamber enter, 

And mark the old, famiHar things anew, 
The pictures, desk, the wide and generous bedstead 
Where sleep my nestlings, and their mother too ; 

The little pegs set low for childish garments, 
The shelf of books, too few, but loved the more. 
The window scarlet set in blooming flowers, 
The patch of slanting sunlight on the floor ; 

A flood of warm contentment sweeps across me, 
A tropic current from a land forgot ; 
Until my heart could burst, as bursts a lily 
New clasped by sunshine in a shady spot. 

And, could I voice my joy, my friends would 

wonder. 
For I have had much grief for one so young. 
74 



Content 

But purest things are blown, perforce, in silence, 
Far past the whispered reach of friendly tongue. 

To love and work, a simple mission truly, 
And I shall have to work my whole life long — 
But when, as now, the smile of God is on me, 
My soul is perfume, and my heart is song. 



75 



Out of the Nest 



DREAMS AND MEMORY 

ATOT only sleep to-night, dear God, I pray ; 

Though sleep is good, and like a mist at eve 
Creeps down the coldness of an arid day 
To fold the spirit in its blessed reprieve. 

Often, for me no better thing may come 
Than soft cessation from all thought and sense. 

Yet now, so far from all I love, from home, 

Sleep is my balm ; — but dreams my recompense. 

And so, dear God, be merciful ; and send 
One pitying smile to touch my closed eyes 

With inner vision. Thou, my only friend, 

Grant to thy child — her childhood's memories. 



76 



Behind Bars 



BEHIND BARS 

TS ever sky so blue, or field so gay 
To bird, or poet who may roam at will, 
As to the caged thing whose heart must fill 
And drain itself a thousand times a day 
With longings that it cannot sing or say, 
But if it live at all, must utter still ? 
Ah, vanished hours, when on the pine-set hill 
In balm, and sun and bloom I lightly lay, 
Not knowing I was happy ! Sad it seems 
To measure all our blessedness by grief. 
And yet, to me, the memory of those dreams, 
The very tears that bring their own relief, 
Thrill with a tenderness more keen and dear 
Than all I felt when I was happy there. 



77 



Out of the Nest 



THE MAGNOLIA 

r\ flowers of the garden, of skilled and human 

^■"^ care, 

Sweet heliotrope, and violet, and orchid frail and 

fair, 
Pour out your love to happier hearts ; the woodland 

flowers for me, 
The pallid, creamy blossoms of the dark magnolia 

tree! 

I close my eyes ; my soul lifts up to float with their 

perfume, 
And dull the body lying in this narrow city room. 
Again I am a happy child. I leap and joy to see 
The great curved petals wavering slip from out the 

gleaming tree. 

78 



The Magnolia 

As holy grail, or pearl inwrought, or carven ivory- 
cup, 

They stand on bronze and emerald bough, and brim 
their sweetness up ; 

And underneath, a happy child ! — O days that 
used to be ! 

In distant land, the flowers still stand upon the 
dark green tree. 



79 



Out of the Nest 



ISAAC 

TTE spoke to ease his heart from scoriate needs. 

His deep eyes burned into the assembled 

throng, 
And fervor thrilled his voice into a song 
Which stirred men's souls to thought of nobler deeds. 
He had, he said, that day a message, strong 
With piteous pleading. In a barbarous land 
All filled with passion, cruelty and wrong, 
There lived and strove a tiny Christian band. 
Sore was help needed ; through his lips they prayed 
Their friends, for Christ's dear love, to send them 

aid 
And patient workers. — Here a pause ; and then 
Loud in the stillness beat the hearts of men. 
" A barbarous land ! A hfe of pain ! Can we, 
Out of our midst, give God this victory ? " 
And one rose up, a girl, and fearless smiled, 
" Here am I, father ! '^ — 'T was his only child. 
80 



Lines for Door of Young Girl's Study 



LINES FOR THE DOOR OF A YOUNG 
GIRL'S STUDY 

pLOWERS may come in sudden glow 

By field or sunlit streams ; 
But there are others, still and slow 
Set deep in folded curves of snow, 
As love in virgin dreams. 

Till, tremulous with its own delight, 

One, through a crystal hour. 
Rises complete, a thing of light, 
Perchance a thought-star through the night. — 

Hush ! would you slay a flower ? 



8i 



Out of the Nest 



LINES FOR THE DOOR OF A PHILOSO- 
PHER'S DEN 

A N open door 's a paradox ; 
"^ Curtains a jest. 
A wooden panel closed may be 
A challenge, taunt, or mystery 

Not worth the test. 
An open door 's a paradox. 

But this is closed ; — Beware who knocks ! 



82 



Birth of the Flowers 



BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS 

r^OD spoke ! and from the arid scene 

Sprang rich and verdant bowers, 
Till all the earth was soft with green. — 
He smiled ; and there were flowers. 



83 



I 



Out of the Nest 



THE WILLOW 

WAS a growing willow, 
My lover, a regal pine. 
The morning mist was our pillow, 
My tears were as crystal wine, 
As I swerved and swayed, in his balmy shade. 
And the earth and the sky were mine. 

I was a trembling willow j 

But my lover raised his face 
As the storm-fiend's hissing yellow 
Drove to our standing-place. 
My leaves out went like a mermaid's hair. 

And whirled in a tattered lace. 
And my white boughs bent as the demon sent 

The bane of his breath through space j 
And earth and air, in a wild despair, 

Shrieked to our last embrace. 
84 



The Willow 

I was a trembling willow, 

My lover, a pine was he. 
But the fiend, with his eyes of yellow, 
Centred his hate on me. 
Alone and stark, in dawn and dark. 

Like a shivering soul in fee, 
Like the ghost of a soul, I drip and dole 
My tears to a briny sea. 



8s 



Out of the Nest 



NIGHT IN THE ROCKIES 

CLOWLY night oozes through the sunset bars, 

Flooding the valleys, rising up the steep 
Among the fir trees, past a granite line 
Where legends say the serpent dares not creep. 

Deep in a chasm writhes a captive stream 
Foaming and hissing at its rocky wall ; 
Down from its eyrie comes an eagle's scream, 
And darkness, ever rising, covers all. 

Swift and relentless lifts the sombre tide, 

Up past the foothills, level to the cone 

Of one white peak that gleams invincible, 

Lone as Mount Ararat when the Flood was done. 

Low in a gap between two Titan slopes 
A flat, misshapen moon begins to peer ; 
Smiles in cold mockery on the sullen hills, 
Which draw their fleecy draperies, chill with fear. 
86 



Night In the Rockies 

Cautious, the moon creeps through the adjusted 

night. 
Up like a menace, shattering on the cone 
Lances of envy into rainbow light, 
High as on Ararat when the Flood was done. 



87 



Out of the Nest 



THE SOLITARY GRAVE 

T WANDERED where the woods were bare, 
And winds wailed summer's loss. 

When suddenly, I trenched upon 
A grave, a leaning cross. 

Then, lo ! the woods grew warm with life, 

The wind a lithe caress ; 
And all that lived seemed love, beside 

That one grave's loneliness. 



88 



An Old Photograph 



AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH 

/^UT from its casket of pungent calf, 

Out from the strata of yellowing leaves 
I startled a picture, — a photograph 

Hid like a fern, in the old world's sleeves. 

I caught it, and stared with my heart at bay. 

Sweet eyes ! Sweet lips ! And a smile Hke light ! 
The face, as a rose, in its dew-dreams lay. 

How could she know of the coming night ? 

Why should I shrink from her unknown fears ? 

I am a woman, and proud and cold. 
I 'm done with shrinking, and done with tears. 

Who weeps on the pictured face I hold ? 

Why should I rise, with a sudden start. 
Seeking a mirror ; with eyes flashed keen 

From one to the other? Oh ! withered heart ! 
And the row of grimacing ghosts between ! 

89 



Out of the Nest 

My own sad face, and her satin brow ! 

My white-veined locks, and her golden head ! 
My lips, — and her mouth like a crimson vow ! 

What fool may say that the girl 's not dead ? 



90 



A Reverie 



A REVERIE 

/^UT from the ranks of book-held, classic lore, 
^^^ That mocked me with their stiff and huddled 

lines, 
I strolled with only Ovid to a wood ; 
And cast me down beside a tiny stream 
That lived and laughed among the sombre growth. 
Long had I mused, when slowly crept a sense 
Of strange remembrance, as if one should drift 
Backward upon an ever flowing tide. 
And find upon a dim and mystic shore 
Some shell or trifle, lost when time was young. 
The newness and the crudeness of the now 
Rose from m.e dew-Hke 'neath a morning sun, 
I sat up glowing, and the well-known scene 
Thrilled with a mellow light that shone from me. 
A spider at her endless web near by 
Fumed softly at Minerva's harsh decree. 
A cricket carped at Tithonus' lost youth. 
91 



Out of the Nest 

And, as I raised my human voice to soothe, 

Coy Echo glimpsed from out the shadowed trees, 

And sped off laughing with my uttered words. 

The bay-tree clasping Daphne's trembling form, 

Her frightened whisper shivered in its leaves. 

Of Midas' ears the rushes gossipped low ; 

And near, with pallid face, a kneeling boy. 

Whose hungry eyes devoured the limpid stream. 

Now wooed with piteous voice his image there. 

So sad he was, so deep his fatuous grief, 

I knelt beside, and laid a tender hand 

Upon his shoulder. Lo, my dream was gone. 

I woke within the little wood alone ; 

But in my hand a wild Narcissus bloom 

Lay freshly plucked. The dream was its perfume. 



92 



Miasma 



MIASMA 

"X rAGUE sadness slowly darkens in 

With isolated reverie. 
And fears, like petals, round my heart 
Enfold them tremblingly. 

From out some world-forgotten woe 
Uncoils this shadowy design. 

O, that my eyes could pass the gloom, 
That my soul, indeed, were mine ! 



93 



Out of the Nest 



BLIND 



CTRANGE heavenly flowers sing out with per- 
fumed voice. 

I feel their colors warm against the wind. 
There birds may sing, insensate things rejoice. 

But I am wordless ; I am blind, am blind. 

Within the wood, from out some ferny height 
The cataract leaps, a rash and startled hind. 

Her silver terrors pierce my soul with light. 
But I am wordless ; I am blind, am blind. 

I gain the lonely peak, and through the air 
Come whirring whispers, winged, unconfined. 

They touch my quivering lips, and thread my hair. 
But I am wordless ; I am blind, am blind. 

Madly I reach. The radiant shadows throng. 

Oh, for one vision, though by Death designed ! 
Life is a husk to one immortal song ! — 

But I am wordless j I am blind, am blind. 
94 



Twilight in a Summer Garden 



TWILIGHT IN A SUMMER GARDEN 

A SHRINE of peace, hushed winds, and odorous 

gloom 
Of ashen shade, where many a scarlet bloom 
Glows like an ember, ere it fades from sight. 
There primrose flowers unfurl with shy delight. 
The hostile yucca Hfts its terraced spears 
To guard the waxen treasure that it bears. 
Pale candelabra in the halls of night, 
Which vagrant fireflies strive in vain to light. 

As, in the garden of the gods, on high 

Fair Dian blossoms, mateless, matchless flower, 

A thousand mimic disks in rivalry 

The moon-flower breathes against her leafy sky, 

Bubbles of whiteness, blown in ecstasy 

Before the spirit of the Evening Hour. 



95 



Out of the Nest 



SNOW ON COUNTRY GRAVES 

n^HE white snow fell to the hillside graves 

Straight through the soundless gray 
That hung like a tarnished vacuum 
Down to a stifled day. 

Then all grew white as the shepherd's fold ; 

The graves were drowsy sheep. 
The snow seemed shredded poppy-leaves 

From the summer land of sleep. 



96 



Extremity 



EXTREMITY 

CO weary am I of this pauseless life, 

This sad monotony of wrong and right ; 
An endless chain of duties linked with pain 
Transmitted o'er the wheels of day and night ! 

If there were storms to breast, or dizzy peaks 
Keen to be scaled, the peril would be bliss, 

And all my heart would answer to the call. 
But oh, the dull satiety of this ! 

A heavy plodding on a sandy road, 

A measured marching, sad, predestinate, 

Which at the order of a hidden voice 
Goes ever onward to a hidden fate ! 

And not one instant's ceasing to it all. 

The huge earth laboring on its vacant route, 
Blown clouds, and shivering stars, and, for the soul, 

All thought revolving in a void of doubt ! 
7 97 



Out of the Nest 

Oh, for a danger ! Some great sudden test, 
To prove me worthy or to snap the blade ; 

Aught but this gray inertia, and the rust ! 
Fate be the swordsman ! I am not afraid ! 



98 



The Juggler 



THE JUGGLER 

T AM no poet, so the critics say. 

I am no poet. Hush ! my soul, be dumb. 
Go, hidden fancies, fly, you must not stay. 

Dreams and sweet visions, this is not your home. 

Is my heart emptied ? — Now for one last glee, 
Passion and pleasure, scraps of love and song, 

Deep-treasured longings ! dainty imagery ! 

Hark, how they answer ! and my soul is strong. 

See how I toss them ! Ah ! the wild delight ! 

I am the master ; they are mine — are mine ! 
Up ! There, no swerving ! Fragile balls of light, 

Tossed by a juggler, — see the gleaming line ! 

Straight ! My eye holds ye ! Keep ye to my will ! 

Heart, brain a-circle, life within the maze ! 
Ha ! my bright captives, I am monarch still ! — 

I am no poet, so the critic says. 
99 



Out of the Nest 



AFTER THE STORM 

'T^HEY think because we write of grief and passion 

That all the tempest of a soul is there. 
O, this is not the soul's, or ocean's fashion. 

Wait for the lull, when shores are broad and bare. 

Wait till the storm has passed, and ocean cowers 
In vast submission to a fate too strong. 

Then on the beach, in shreds of deep sea flowers, 
We find the shells, the broken shells of song. 



ICO 



The Narcissus 



THE NARCISSUS 

'T^WO fragile tremulous hands pierce through the 
mould, 

Pressed close in dumb beseeching to the sun. 
Deep in its heart pale prayers of flowers unfold, 

To sing, at last, a golden antiphon. 



lOI 



Out of the Nest 



GRIEF'S DEPUTY 

n^HEY told me to forget. I strove 
In nature to negate my love, 

And found but wider pain. 
His voice is tangled in the wind ; 
The sunlight hath his smile in kind ; 

His sighs, the summer rain. 

Each day a golden torture seems; 

I kiss night's feet, and still my dreams 

Reverse the wheel of day. 
Oh, Nature ! What my crime that thou, 
Once more than kind, art willing now 

Tgbe Griefs deputy? 



I02 



Snow Petals 



SNOW PETALS 

A CROSS a sky as gray as stone 

The clouds like wind-tossed branches blow. 
And from their tattered twigs are strown 
The first pale blossoms of the snow. 



103 



Out of the Nest 



DRIFTING 

T TPON the current of a deep-set stream 

Which drags its sullen length adown the wood 
I drifted, in that sweet and lonely mood 
Which bares the heart to all that poets dream ; 
So many lovely things to watch me pass 
Had clustered at the slow, reluctant edge. 
A crimson spray stood tip-toe in the grass, 
A gleaming red bird fluttered to the sedge ; 
You would have sworn the flower stooped to drink. 
A tiny herald wind along the brink 
Had wooed the poplars' silver fleeting smile. 
The water scowled ; and yet I marked the while 
How, in its depths, the cool white sand-beds bore 
Pale sunbeams, stranded on that mystic shore. 



104 



Rebirth 



REBIRTH 

" 'T^HE flowers are dead ! " we cry, as wintry cold 

And winter's sullen rain resolve to earth 
The sweetest smiles that greet the summer's birth. 
But still we know that from the sodden mould 
Another hope shall spring, a flower unfold, 
The same and yet another. Can we then 
Proclaim as dead the thing that lives again ? 
In yonder pool, once dark and bare, behold, 
From fetid depths updrawn to sunht air, 
The trembling lotos rising like a prayer ! 
O soul, be brave, for death is but a name ! 
From withered hopes, all sodden deep in tears, 
A purer joy, a fairer hope appears ; — 
Perchance a lotos, white, with heart of flame. 



105 



Out of the Nest 



VOICES 

TTEARKEN and hasten ye glittering things ! 

Here by the window I Ve stood so long. 

Sunshine was lazy, and winds were strong : 
Naught that could circle on silver wings 

Came to my calling ; — no exquisite gleams 

Slit the grey curtain of mist and dreams. 

Now ye have heard me, and hearing come 
Straight from the azure ; — my soul thy home ! 
Heart-full, and arms-full, and shoulders for perches ; 
Hurtle ye down for my eager eye searches 
Scanning the lack of the tiniest cricket 
Winter lets slip from her heavy grey wicket. 

Doves and neat sparrows, and nightingales, too ! 
Burnie-bees, dragon-flies, what shall I do ! 
Sunshine will drown me, I 'm stricken with light, — 
Pierced by the whispers of day-time and night ! 
1 06 



Voices 

How they wheel round me in thousands at last, — 
I who was desolate ! — Well, that is past, 
Shadow goes quicker than sunshine can throw it, — 
Yes, little cricket, I know that you know it, — 
Then shrill me those hours you reeled from the sun 
Flax-like to spin when the summer is done. 

Doves, purl your sorrow. Young eagles, give cry ! 
Drone bees, and chat wrens, and thou, butterfly, 
Fan me the thought of that last dewy rose 
Whose heart you had seized ere her petals could 

close ! 
Ah, Katy-Did green ! — Katy-Did n't 's at hand ! 
I want the whole quarrel ! Now please understand 

That I won't have a pout 

Or a quaver left out. 
And, Grasshopper Fiddler, just screw up your key ! 
There 's a whole year of summer left empty in me — 

Lonely me, in whose bitter 

Sad hours so oft 
All the yearning and striving and praying were vain, 
Like balm to my heart is the tiniest twitter. 
107 



Out of the Nest 

But dearest of all is the nightingale. Soft 
Must you flatter, sweet singer, this infinite pain. 
Here, hide in my breast, — till the magic white loom 
Of your fair Lady Dian its silvery gloom 
Has wrought through the forest ! Ah, then, on the 

hill 
Shall our thoughts turn to music, — our ecstasies 

spill 
Golden honey of sound over blossom and tree, — 
Clear harmonies fresh from my spirit and thine 
Till sunshine lies wet where the darkness should be. 

Oh, bright ones ! 

Oh, light ones ! 

Earth's voices and mine ! 



io8 



Autumn 



AUTUMN 

TVrOW from the silent autumn woods 

The dry sweet odors start, 
Like memories of a useful life 
From out an aged heart. 

The little streams upon the hill 
Come trickling, bright and slow. 

As though adown a wrinkled cheek 
Where teardrops seldom flow. 

The flowers of spring, like rainbows flashed 
Through prisms of April tears, 

Make way for purple and the gold 
Befitting later years. 

My summer prime is thick with leaf, 

And long forgot my spring. 
O Father ! Grant that mine may be 

So rich a harvesting ! 
109 



Out of the Nest 



THREE WOMEN 

T KNOW three women. One is brave, and 

strong 
To lift calm eyes beside her chosen king. 
Upward they toil, nor scornful whispering. 
Nor dull indifference, nor suffered wrong 
Can baulk their striving ; but, the way is long. 
The next is wild and free ; and, as a wing 
May cleave the azure of a prairie's ring, 
Her mateless soul would cleave the rim of song. 
The third is gentle, hushed in quiet needs, 
A brooding bird among the water-reeds. 
Love is her heaven ; and, where it mirrored lies, 
Lean the blue blossoms of her children's eyes. 
" Clear types,'' you say, " and strangely set apart." 
Look deeper, friend, 't is but one woman's heart. 



no 



OCT '-^ iB9S 



